


A Guide To Straightforward Declarations of Love

by carry_on_a



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Co-workers, F/M, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 20:53:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20645516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carry_on_a/pseuds/carry_on_a
Summary: Lily Evans is on a determined quest to declare her love for the bloke of her dreams and hopefully not piss off HR along the way.





	A Guide To Straightforward Declarations of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GhostofBambi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostofBambi/gifts).

> For the lovely Sarah, because your writing never fails to make me smile, and your kindness in the fandom and as a person is wonderful to watch.  
So I stalked your Tumblr and saw you subtly request this: (Lily gets super drunk and decides it is high time to pull off a huge romantic gesture to let James know she likes him) and I oh-so-subtly asked if I could write it and now here we are.  
It’s nowhere near Christmas (like, at all), but I felt in the mood to write so…happy early Christmas? I hope you get your dressing gown. :)  
Also, readers beware, this fic is heavy on the texting, so if that’s not your cup of tea, fair warning.

**Saturday, 2nd September**

“What, hypothetically,” Lily says after three glasses of wine, pushing into Mary and giving her best pleading look, “is the best way to declare love?”

Mary, halfway through writing a long, caps-lock, profanity filled text, snaps up her head. “To declare _what?”_ she says. Then, “Lily Evans, have you been watching the Hallmark channel again? You know Colin Firth isn’t a real option for you.”

Lily huffs, sitting upright and nearly falling flat on her face. She steadies herself, thankful that the pub is too full for anyone to be looking at her, and scowls at Mary. Or tries to. She can’t really see where her mate is with her bad combination of exhaustion, dark lighting and a few too many drinks. “There is nothing wrong with indulging in some feel-good movies,” she says indignantly, because a principle is a principle and no one scoffs at Colin Firth. “But no, it’s not that. It’s James.” Even saying his name makes her chest turn inside out, make her feel simultaneously giddy and also like she’s going to be sick. A deadly cocktail, that.

“Oh.” Mary looks back at her phone. “That.”

Lily stares. “Yes, that,” she says, then snaps her fingers. “Uh, hello? Mary? Did you not hear me? In love with James? Me? In love with him?”

“Yes, I heard,” Mary says, still scrolling through her phone. “I already knew that.” 

Lily’s elbow thunks into the table. “You did?”

Mary looks up with a raised eyebrow. “Everyone knows,” she says. “Like, literally, everyone. Dorcas in editorial suggested locking the two of you in a broom cupboard. I put a stop to that one—you’re welcome—but only because I knew you’d just spend those precious hours talking with him about _work_ or some other shit and ruin any chances you have of him not seeing what a prize idiot you are.”

“I am not an idiot,” Lily snaps, choosing not to address that other claim because truth be told if she was locked in a broom cupboard with her unfairly fit coworker-slash-friend she would likely have done exactly what Mary had said. “And lovely that everyone seems to be neck-deep in my business.”

“There’s an office pool about it,” Mary says cheerfully. “I’ve got fifty quid on him losing his patience with you and snogging you senseless before Christmas.”

“He most certainly will not,” Lily says and gives Mary a narrow-eyed, determined glare, “because I am going to do it first.”

Mary stares, then snorts. “No, you won’t,” she informs her. “You’ve been mad about this bloke for _three years._ Watched him go from that horrid Wendy to equally horrid Melissa to downright terrifying Heather and a whole slew of other random birds who are _not you_ and done absolutely nothing about it except offering to take him out for a conciliatory drink after those relationships inevitably don’t pan out.”

“Because of you,” Lily accuses. “You got rid of Melissa and Heather—_both_ Heathers.”

“Fuck right, I did,” Mary says unrepenantly. “Did you honestly see James spending the rest of his life with _Heather Bowright?”_

She didn’t, and had this same thought dozens—hundreds—of times during that four month relationship, sometimes while she’s gazing contemplatively (lovestruck, Mary says) at James’s desk across the way, sometimes lying awake at 4 A.M., sometimes watching those rom-coms Mary likes to mock her for. (It’s hopeless, pathetic, the worst state she’s ever been in for a bloke.)

Lily chooses not to answer this and takes another large swallow of her wine. Mary’s idea of a girls night at the pub had sounded fun, until they started playing love songs and Lily finds her thoughts wandering and before she knows it she’s drunkenly declaring her love for James Potter.

Desk across from hers James Potter. Coworker James Potter. Friend James Potter. Silly, dorky, fit, far too obsessed with cats James Potter.

She’s so fucked.

“I would do it,” she insists, feeling her heart thump. “Really, I would.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Mary says. “Because that would mean admitting you’re so far gone for this bloke that you’d like to have his children and live together until you’re old and gray and shag him senseless seven days a week in so many positions you’ll both be sore for days and go on romantic holidays with him and you’re too much of a bloody coward to do or say any of that.”

Lily scowls and clutches her drink tighter. “You’ll see,” she says, because even if Mary is right and the very thought of all those words makes her wish desperately for an early retirement, she’s had this rattling around inside her for three bloody years and she’s got to let it out one way or another soon or she will explode from too many feelings and nobody deserves to have to deal with all her feelings.

“Drink your wine,” Mary says.

Lily pours it over Mary’s head instead and makes a silent promise to herself.

_I will tell James Potter I love him before Christmas._

* * *

**iMessage**

**Thursday, 17th September, 2:37 P.M.**

**James Potter **

_u know there are other ways to get my attention __than sending layout proofs to me. _2:37 P.M.

_ really. Totally _ _unnecessary Evans_

**Lily Evans**

_Do your job, you arse. _2:38 P.M_._

**James Potter **

_I am doing my job _2:38 P.M.

_chucking pieces of paper at Peter from HR is fabulously increasing my concentration _2:39 P.M.

**Lily Evans**

_James Potter if you get in trouble with HR again McGonagall is going to have your arse _2:39 P.M.

**James Potter **

_are u kidding me _2:40 P.M.

_peter never notices anything _2:40 P.M.

**James Potter**

_shit _2:42 P.M.

**Lily Evans**

_told you so _2:41 P.M.

**James Potter**

_Lil, what are the chances of u saying u were __texting me top secret info pertaining to our _2:47 P.M.

_newest expose on the catnapping crisis in _ _South London?_

**Lily Evans**

_Have fun talking to McGonagall, James _2:48 P.M.

**James Potter**

_*everything-is-garbage-captain-holt.gif* _2:49 P.M.

* * *

**Monday, 28th September **

“Who wants to take a bet on how long it will take me to shag Gideon Prewitt again,” Dorcas Meadowes declares, slapping a folder of papers onto Lily’s desk. “I’m thinking a week at the rate my stress level is going.”

“That’s a bit unfair on yourself,” Lily argues, closing her laptop and stretching. “You did just get out of a break-up.”

James chuckles and swivels his chair around so he’s facing them. “Feeling the tension, Meadowes?” he asks, grinning.

Dorcas scowls at him. “Acutely,” she snaps and tosses a paper at him. “There’s your housing crisis piece, cut 200 words. Lily, trim your intro and get Westham to confirm that quote or McGonagall will have my arse.”

She marches off in her towering heels.

“Bit stressed, isn’t she,” James muses, not looking at all bothered at being told to cut a quarter of his piece. He grins easily at Lily, spectacles lopsided. “Think we should tell her that Gideon Prewitt just got a girlfriend?”

“It’s your grave,” Lily says and stacks her folders.

James chuckles again. “I’ll pull you into the scheme somehow,” he promises, and fuck, if he doesn’t look so wonderful and perfect, just reclining lazily in his swivel chair, hair a mess, feet on a stack of old phonebooks and only three feet away from her.

Lily can feel her face about to flush—physically _feel_ the impending redness—so she stands quickly and grabs a random folder. “I need to file this,” she says.

“I’ll come with you,” James says easily, getting to his feet and Lily tries not to let her thoughts show in her face—oh god, oh god, oh god—as he veritably towers over her.

Mary lifts her head as they pass her desk and she gives Lily a knowing look and an air kiss. _Go get him,_ she mouths.

Lily makes a face at her, and blows a kiss back. _Shove off, _she mouths.

Mary flips her off.

James snorts. “You know, I can never tell if you’re best mates or mortal enemies,” he says as they enter the corridor outside their cubicles.

“We like to keep it mysterious,” Lily says. “Keeps people guessing.”

“All people?” James asks, sliding his hands into his pockets as they enter the archives and Lily heads for a random section, the folder in her hand—her overdue tax forms—feeling like a deadweight.

“Well, if there were exceptions then how would it be a mystery?” Lily asks logically. She shoves the file somewhere random, making a mental note to come back for it later.

James nods slowly. “I suppose,” he says. “But sometimes secrets are better with more people.”

“Well, then you’re the worst secret-keeper in the world,” Lily says. “That’s basically the #1 rule of Secret Club—as few people as possible should know. Less of a chance of it getting out. No cake for you, James Potter.”

“Aw, come on!” James protests, but he’s grinning. “I’ll do better next time,” he promises. “Seriously. Not a word. I’ll even shut up right now.”

Lily laughs and she’s struck by how close to him she’s standing, how there’s no one else in the archives and Scrimgeour had removed the security cams because he was worried about untrustworthy employees leaking “top secret” information, like the news stories published ten years ago and the 2016 census results for Liverpool. He’s taller than her by a good seven inches, the top of her head just barely brushing his chin. He’s got brilliant hands, she thinks, watching as he absently leans his elbow against the file cabinet, fingers tapping on the metal.

She wants those fingers tapping on her.

“James,” she starts and he looks down at her, his glasses shadowing his eyes.

“Yeah?” he asks.

Lily swallows, her heart pounding, throat dry, words suddenly as impossible as climbing Everest. “I—”

_Fuck, fuck, fuck—_

James’s brow furrows. “Lily—” he starts.

“James, I—”

“Lily? James? Are you two in here?” Remus pokes his head into the room, his eyes finding them standing face to face, bare inches apart. If he finds that at all strange, he doesn’t say anything. “McGonagall wants to see you in her office,” he says.

“Impatient, isn’t she,” James says, stepping away, casual as can be. “So eager to see me.” He grins at her. “Shall we to our dark master?”

Lily’s heart is pounding and she gives him a weak smile, not trusting herself to form an actual answer. “Yeah,” she says a moment later, her voice soft. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

* * *

_To: Lily Evans (_ [ _levans@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:levans@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _) _

_From: Minerva McGonagall (_ [ _mmcgonagall@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:mmcgonagall@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _)_

_Cc: James Potter (_ [ _jpotter@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:jpotter@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _) _

_Date: 1 October 2019 11:27 A.M._

_Subject: Parliament Deal Refusal Piece_

_Ms. Evans,_

_I’m assigning you to the Parliament Deal piece along with Mr. Potter. The House of Commons convenes tomorrow at 9 A.M.—I expect the pair of you to be there to cover the story. I’ve already spoken to Mr. Potter about this assignment and copied him on this email._

_Rough copy due tomorrow evening._

_Let me know if there are any difficulties in scheduling for this._

_Sincerely,_

_M. McGonagall_

_Editor In-Chief, _

_The Daily Prophet_

_To: Minerva McGonagall (_ [ _mmcgonagall@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:mmcgonagall@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _) _

_From: Lily Evans (_ [ _levans@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:levans@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _)_

_Cc: James Potter (_ [ _jpotter@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:jpotter@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _) _

_Date: 1 October 2019 11:53 A.M._

_Subject: re: Parliament Deal Refusal Piece_

_Dear Ms. McGonagall,_

_Thank you so much for giving me and Mr. Potter this piece. The details should all work fine—I’ll have copy on your desk by 8 P.M. tomorrow._

_Since it’s such a time-sensitive piece, should we turn it in to Dorcas in editorial before handing it to you or should we just have the copyeditors handle it?_

_Best,_

_Lily Evans_

_To: James Potter (_ [ _jpotter@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:jpotter@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _) _

_From: Lily Evans (_ [ _levans@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:levans@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _)_

_Date: 1 October 2019 12:17 P.M._

_Subject: re: The Big One_

_Very funny, Potter. Your childish humor towards the politics in our country is concerning._

_See you tomorrow—and don’t you dare be late._

_Lily_

* * *

**boozed up and done w your shit**

**iMessage**

**Thursday, 1st October, 12:41 P.M.**

**Remus Lupin**

_You guys do realize this is supposed to be the work group chat _12:41 P.M.

**Sirius Black**

_So?_ 12:41 P.M.

**James Potter**

_u don’t even work here _12:42 P.M.

**Dorcas Meadowes**

_who named the group chat _ 12:42 P.M.

**Remus Lupin**

_Mary _12:43 P.M.

**James Potter**

_Mary who else _12:43 P.M.

**Mary MacDonald**

_damn right I did none of u know how to spell _12:44 P.M.

**Lily Evans**

_I take offence to that, Mary _12:44 P.M.

_Does everyone have their stories filed for this week? McGonagall’s been on me about that _12:45 P.M.

**Dorcas Meadowes**

_Already collected them from everyone, Lil _12:46 P.M.

**Peter from HR**

_You guys know there’s an HR handbook __about employee conduct via electronic d__evices_12:47 P.M.

**Mary MacDonald**

_What the fuck does that have to do with anything _12:48 P.M.

**James Potter**

_Please don’t recite the handbook again mate _12:48 P.M.

**Lily Evans**

_Don’t scoff at handbooks, James, but really Peter isn’t that a bit futile _12:49 P.M.

**Peter from HR**

_My job is futile w you lot _12:50 P.M.

**Sirius Black**

_I’ll drink to that _12:50 P.M.

**James Potter**

_We should rename the chat the Futilities _12:52 P.M.

**Lily Evans**

_Ooh, the Futilebusters _12:52 P.M.

_HR’s greatest nightmare _12:52 P.M.

**James Potter**

_Raven, futilemore. _12:52 P.M.

**Lily Evans**

_Excellently, Sir Poe _12:53 P.M.

**James Potter**

_Thank you _12:53 P.M.

**Mary MacDonald**

_save it for the bedroom u 2 _ 12:54 P.M.

**Read**

* * *

**sensible office ladies**

**iMessage**

**Thursday, 1st October, 1:42 P.M.**

**Marlene McKinnon**

_OMG, you guys, I just heard _1:42 P.M.

_James is going out w Remus’s friend! _1:42 P.M.

**Dorcas Meadowes**

_Tiffany? _1:43 P.M.

**Marlene McKinnon**

_Yeah. First date he’s gone on in ages, I thought he was hung up on someone _1:44 P.M.

**Dorcas Meadowes**

_yeah. me too _1:44 P.M.

**Mary MacDonald**

_i think we’ve got better things to do than discuss james’s lovelife _1:44 P.M.

_lil, u wanna do chinese tonight? _1:45 P.M.

**Lily Evans**

_yep, chinese sounds good _1:47 P.M.

* * *

**boozed up and done w your shit**

**iMessage**

**5:57 P.M.**

**Remus Lupin**

_Good luck w your date tonight James _ 5:57 P.M.

**iMessage**

**7:31 P.M.**

**James Potter**

_Thanks _ 7:31 P.M.

**Read**

* * *

**Sunday, 4th October **

“Can I help you?”

“Chocolate croissant and coffee in an IV,” Lily says, out of breath and digging through her purse.

The barista in the coffee shop blinks, alarmed, but then Sirius slides in front of him. “I’ve got it,” he says and turns his judgmental gaze on her. “Bit morning after, don’t you think, Evans?”

Lily scowls, zipping up her purse and huffing out a breath. “I’ve had the worst sort of morning,” she informs him. “Be grateful you don’t work in print. I almost threw the copy machine at Benjy Fenwick this morning. Twice.”

“Violent.”

“Hey, I said _almost.”_

“Coward,” Sirius mutters and begins assembling her usual midmorning strong cup of coffee.

Lily leans across the countertop and exhales heavily. “I’m going to hide in here all morning,” she says, her voice muffled. “McGonagall’s up my arse about my latest piece and I don’t want to deal with it today. I’ll just…” she waves vaguely.

“Cower?” Sirius says, sliding her cup towards her. He smells vaguely like coffee, which is a comforting smell even if its coming from probably the least comforting person on the planet. How she and Sirius ended up friends, Lily will never know, but somewhere in between her mad pre-work dash to consume caffeine, a Hawaiian themed rave at his mate’s flat and the sugary scones he stocks in the back, Sirius has managed to neatly insert his acerbic self into her life.

Lily straightens and takes a large gulp of coffee, savoring the bitter taste. “I’m alive again,” she declares, and takes another sip.

“Hallelujah,” Sirius says dryly and turns to pull something from the ovens.

Lily leans against the counter, blowing on her coffee and glances down at her phone, which she had been screwing around on before she barreled into the coffee shop like the hurricane had barreled into Kansas.

She has supremely bad luck, she decides, when she’s halfway texting Mary and halfway (halfheartedly) messing around on Tinder and Sirius comes up behind her and plucks the phone straight from her hand.

He glances at the bloke smiling from the screen, his profile declaring him Mark, 26, likes seafood, and snorts. “Getting a bit desperate, Evans?”

Lily scowls and swipes at him. “Give that back,” she snaps. “Don’t you have customers to service or something?”

Sirius looks around the coffee shop, which is nearly empty because its 10 o’clock in the morning and that is exactly why Lily escaped from the office across the street to get a large, very strong cup of coffee and bitterly inner monologue on the uselessness of the male species.

And get away from James, sitting three feet away and trying to see how many crumpled up pieces of paper he could throw into the waste basket without Dorcas seeing and no doubt reveling in the brilliant date he just went on, but that was neither here nor there.

Lily crosses her arms and glares at Sirius. “I’m going to complain to the manager,” she says.

Sirius points at himself. “Proceed.”

“Give me back my phone, you arse.”

Sirius finally relinquishes the small device and she glances at the screen again, seeing Mark’s blandly smiling face. Fuck, Sirius is right, this is pathetic and she thought was done with Tinder after a series of terrible dates involving chainsaws and creepy doll collections, but she just overheard Peter from HR talking with James about his date Thursday night and heard the phrase ‘great legs’ and goddammit, she doesn’t want to hear that and, well, she’s pathetic.

Lily scowls critically at Mark and swipes decisively left.

“Looks like he does meth,” Sirius says of the next fellow, who has a heavy scowl and a Hawaiian shirt.

“Shut up,” Lily says and swipes left.

“I never said it was a bad thing,” Sirius mutters and kicks a chair away so he can sit down behind Lily.

Lily swipes left on the next three, her frustration mounting. She never has any luck on Tinder and the most she’ll get is going out with another Diana Ross cult follower.

Sirius is silent for a while, then says, “Trying to purge the city of all blokes, Evans? That last one wasn’t bad.” Which, coming from Sirius, is basically a glowing recommendation.

But Lily taps her finger against the edge of her screen, recalling the fit banking executive who liked to travel and Panic! At The Disco. “I don’t like music stans,” she says. “Too invested.”

“Like you’re not batshit crazy for that blonde bird on Bonita Island.”

“Oy, leave Madonna out of this.”

Sirius makes a derisive noise and peers over her shoulder. “Keep swiping and there’ll be no one left,” he says. “It’s like you don’t want to find love with London’s leading trout migration expert.”

“Well, what about when trout season ends?” Lily says, feeling prickly. “I don’t like men with mustaches. And he was too serious.”

“Trout-Man will be devastated,” Sirius says dryly. “Why all the nos?”

Lily grips her phone tighter, eyes unwillingly darting to the window, where she can see her office building across the street. The headquarters of the Daily Prophet, so sterile, so unassuming, so deadly to her rapidly declining sanity. There, back again. “I dunno,” she says. “They’re just…not good enough. Besides, I’m not that keen on dates recently.”

Her voice comes out more bitter than she intended.

Sirius is silent for a moment, then he speaks. “Oh.” His voice is darkly amused. “I see.”

Lily flushes and hunches away from him. “Go back to work,” she says, continuing to swipe and hating herself for being disappointed when each face is worse than the last because its not the face she wants.

Imagine that, swiping through and suddenly seeing his bespectacled face grinning out at her. _James, 26, loves cats and Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Physically incapable of cleaning out his desk._

_Oh, look,_ she’d say. _We’re both on Tinder. And we matched, fancy that! Marry me?_

Fuck, she’s screwed.

And James Potter is going to be the death of her.

Lily swipes the next few with a little more aggression than is strictly necessary and is halfway through contemplating the photograph of a man who seems to think holding the carcass of a raw deer up is going to make her overcome with lust for his flabby body and cross mountains and rivers to get her hands on him when Sirius says, casually as can be, “It didn’t pan out, you know.” He leans forward and firmly swipes left for her. “Tiffany. The bird James went out with. Said she was too high maintenance.”

Lily’s body freezes and something that’s both warm and arctic in temperature sweeps through her. “Oh?” Her voice is pseudo-casual and she knows Sirius can see right through it from the way he grunts.

He leans away and crosses his arms, giving her a look. “For fuck’s sake, Evans,” he says and it’s the most logical she’s ever heard him sound. “You have to _try.”_

* * *

**spooky time is here bitches**

**iMessage**

**Monday, 5th October 7:07 A.M.**

**Remus Lupin**

_Mary it’s really too early in the month for Halloween excitement _7:07 A.M.

**Mary MacDonald**

_au contrair, my friend, it is never too early for the season of giving _7:08 A.M.

**Peter from HR**

_u mean the season of dentist’s nightmares and giving people unnecessary frights? _7:10 A.M.

**Mary MacDonald**

_Exactly! See, someone gets it _7:10 A.M.

**James Potter**

_You know this is supposed to be used for work right _7:10 A.M.

_and so far we have not used it as such _7:10 A.M.

_besides lily checking in once about filing our stories _7:11 A.M.

**Mary MacDonald**

_well we can’t all be lily _7:12 A.M.

**James Potter**

_I am aware of the impossibility of such a venture but is it too much to ask for a tiny _7:12 A.M.

_bit of professionalism in here?_

**Mary MacDonald**

_like you don’t have your James Bond costume and accompanying skit already planned _7:13 A.M.

_out to a T_

**Remus Lupin **

_He does he even got a fake bomb shipped to our flat _7:14 A.M.

_the porter was not amused _7:14 A.M.

**James Potter**

_doesn’t know how to take a joke that one _7:14 A.M.

**Peter from HR**

_huzzah _7:15 A.M.

**iMessage**

**Monday, 5th October 8:16 A.M.**

**Mary MacDonald**

_Lily what the fuck are u wearing????? _8:16 A.M.

**spooky time is here bitches**

**iMessage**

**8:16 A.M.**

**Dorcas Meadowes**

_James why did u just fall off your chair McG’s going to think you’ve got another _8:16 A.M.

_concussion_

**iMessage**

**8:19 A.M.**

**Mary MacDonald**

_LILY _8:19 A.M.

**spooky time is here bitches**

**iMessage**

**8:23 A.M.**

**Remus Lupin**

_bit warm in here isn’t it _7:14 A.M.

**iMessage**

**Monday, 5th October 8:26 A.M.**

**Peter from HR**

_Lily, terribly sorry to inform you but the HR handbook strictly prohibits dress of _ 8:26 A.M.

_a_ _…provocative nature_

**Lily Evans**

_piss off peter _8:29 A.M.

**Peter from HR**

_im just doing my job, lily _8:30 A.M.

**Lily Evans**

_I know _8:31 A.M.

**iMessage**

**11:51 A.M.**

**Mary MacDonald**

_bitch meet me for lunch ASAP _11:51 A.M.

**Lily Evans**

_okay _11:53 A.M.

* * *

**HALLOWEEEEEEEN!!!**

**iMessage**

**Friday, 31st October 6:08 A.M.**

**Mary MacDonald**

_HAPPY HALLOWEEN BITCHES _6:08 A.M.

**iMessage**

**11:51 A.M.**

**Dorcas Meadowes**

_*ursella-costume.pic* _11:51 A.M.

**Lily Evans**

_Nice _11:51 A.M.

_huh, its funny…it’s almost like we match _11:51 A.M.

_*ariel-costume.pic* _11:52 A.M.

_what a coincidence _11:52 A.M.

**James Potter**

_hey I got u both beat _11:53 A.M.

_*james-bond-costume-awesome.pic* _11:53 A.M.

**Mary MacDonald **

_lacks originality _11:53 A.M.

**James Potter**

_you’ll regret that _11:54 A.M.

_*unleash-the-beast-captain-holt.gif* _11:54 A.M.

**James Potter**

_hey real quick does anyone know any legal help _12:06 P.M.

**Dorcas Meadowes**

_What did u do _12:07 P.M.

**James Potter**

_NOTHING _12:08 P.M.

_I may, hypothetically, be writing that last statement from a jail cell _12:08 P.M.

_hypothetically _12:08 P.M.

_like just a small chance _12:08 P.M.

_does anyone know a lawyer pls and thank you _12:09 P.M.

**Lily Evans**

_JAMES _12:10 P.M.

**Remus Lupin**

_he tried to jump out of a fifth floor window _12:10 P.M.

**Lily Evans**

_WHAT _12:10 P.M.

**Remus Lupin**

_said it was part of his costume and his “duty” to save London _12:11 P.M.

_5th floor manager wasn’t best pleased _12:11 P.M.

_so he rang up the police _12:11 P.M.

**James Potter **

_Hence the jail cell _12:12 P.M.

**Mary MacDonald**

_Hey, don’t they take ur phone in jail? That’s why I never hit up a bank, can’t do w out Insta _12:13 P.M.

**Peter from HR**

_so many things wrong w that _12:13 P.M.

_snapchat is better _12:13 P.M.

**Mary MacDonald**

_HEY _12:13 P.M.

**James Potter**

_I am very inventive and clever _12:14 P.M.

**Remus Lupin**

_He stuffed his phone down his trousers _12:14 P.M.

**Dorcas Meadowes**

_Ew, James _12:14 P.M.

**Mary MacDonald**

_gross _12:14 P.M.

_but bold _12:15 P.M.

_I like it _12:15 P.M.

**iMessage**

**Friday, 31st October 12:17 P.M.**

**Lily Evans**

_I’m coming to bail you out _12:17 P.M.

_Idiot _12:13 P.M.

**James Potter**

_You are my hero, Lily Evans _12:18 P.M.

_I shall adore you forever _12:18 P.M.

**Read**

**iMessage**

**Saturday, 8th November 6:47 P.M.**

**Minerva McGonagall**

_I need the two of you to work tonight and sort through the old crime exposés _6:47 P.M.

_Scrimgeour’s got it into his head that we need to republish our old pieces to pad the newest issue _6:49 P.M.

**Lily Evans**

_Of course, ma’am _6:51 P.M.

**James Potter**

_What time should we be there? _6:55 P.M.

**Minerva McGonagall**

_Eight thirty sharp. I’ll be working in my office if you need anything _6:57 P.M.

* * *

**Saturday, 8th November**

“Is it considered extortion if you’re getting paid for it?” James muses, reclining in Lily’s office chair. She’s all but abandoned any semblance of office decorum—it’s 11 o’clock at night, there’s no one here but them and McGonagall two floors above them—and is lying on back on the floor, bleary eyes staring at the census results of some town from 1997.

Lily shrugs one shoulder halfheartedly. “Probably not,” she says, then yawns and drops the paper to the side. “Ugh, I’m exhausted.” She covers her face with her hands and groans.

There’s a creaking sound as James leans back. “Me too,” he sighs. “Who knew census reports could suck the soul from your body.”

“Me,” Lily says, voice muffled. “I just hoped I’d be strong enough.”

“I’m sorry you weren’t,” James says. “Your valiant effort is noted.”

“Doubt McGonagall will care about valiant effort,” Lily says.

“Eh, McG’s got a kindred spirit beneath all that bluster,” James says and she cracks open an eye to see him spinning lazily in her chair. His eyes are closed behind crooked specs and his hair is sticking up on one side. “And even she can’t fight the rising tide of paperwork.”

“I don’t know, she’s pretty fierce.”

“Not when she’s challenging Dumbledore to an eggnog-off at the office Christmas party,” James counters.

Lily sits up to scowl at him. “You encouraged him,” she says. “For some strange reason, the founder of our newspaper has a soft spot for you, and that leads you to extrapolate on the good holiday cheer of an eggnog-off and before we know it our Editor in Chief and the owner are both six sheets to the wind.”

“It’s cause my dad worked for him,” James says. “The soft spot, I mean, not the six sheets to the wind.”

“Ah, the good old fashioned nepotism of the rich,” Lily says bitingly.

James pops open an eye. “Unfortunately, yes,” he says, and taps the edge of her desk. His eyes pause on the picture of her mum pinned to her corkboard. “You going to see your mum soon?”

“Two weeks,” Lily says. “Sister’s engaged, so I’ve gotta put in an appearance. Suppose I’ll also have to drag myself down there next summer for the wedding.”

If James is surprised by the bitterness when she speaks of her family he doesn’t show it, just continues looking at the picture of her mum. It’s one that was taken a few years ago, before Lily’s dad’s cancer got too bad and sent their entire family into a spiral. She looks happy, smiling.

Lily closes her eyes and leans her head back again.

“Hey.” James’s voice is suddenly a lot closer. “Let’s play hide and seek.”

Lily cracks open an eye. “Sorry?”

“Hide and seek,” he repeats, a ridiculously eager look on his face. He’s crouching over her and if he moves his hand an inch closer he’ll be touching her shoulder. “We’re not going to get any more work done here and I’m pretty sure McGonagall went home a bit ago anyway. We have the office all too ourselves! Hide and seek.”

He’s beaming, his logic so easy, so confident, but Lily’s mind has latched on the ‘have the office all to ourselves’ bit and doesn’t seem keen to let go.

They’re alone, she realizes, perhaps belatedly, since they’ve been alone for three hours now, but it hadn’t felt like it, with the paperwork and the censuses hanging over them.

Now…

“Hide and seek sounds great,” Lily says.

She’s got to hand it to him—James Potter throws himself wholeheartedly into every single thing he does. He pretends not to know that she’d hiding in Dorcas’s office, then wedges himself into a supply closet on the second floor and manages to get stuck.

“Your bloody arse is in the way,” Lily snaps as she tugs uselessly on his arm.

James is laughing—has been laughing since she found him—and he gasps out, “My arse is fine, Evans. Just—just—_fuck_—pull _harder!”_

Lily starts laughing too and her strength disappears completely. She staggers forward, leaning against the wall. “I don’t think I can—I can’t get you out,” she informs James breathlessly, unable to keep the laughter from bubbling out. He’s got one arm wedged uncomfortably over his head and the other stuck under a mop. “Shit, I think we have to call janitorial.”

“Don’t you dare leave me here!” James says with dramatic intent, but his seriousness is belied by the laugh that he’s trying to hold back and how his spectacles are hanging off one ear.

Lily’s hands are shaking with suppressed laughter as she reaches for her phone. “Just—just hold on,” she giggles, before dialing the builing maintenance number. “Hello? Hi—I’m, yes—uh, _James st—oh my god, stop—_sorry, I’m Lily Evans. I work on the third floor, and uh, well, this is quite embarrassing really, but my…colleague got himself stuck in a supply closet—_James stop moving you’re making it worse—_do you think you could—? Oh thank you.”

Lily hangs up and looks at James, then quickly looks away because the sight of him is enough to make her both want to laugh and also shag him senseless. Bloody hell, how could someone look so appealing stuck in a supply closet. “They’ll be here in an hour,” she says.

James has mostly stopped laughing, but there’s still a faint grin and flush on his face when he looks at her. “You don’t have to hang around,” he says. “I can wait bravely for my rescuers.”

“Trust me, the brave one in that scenario is not you,” Lily says. “Those janitors should be paid extra for having to deal with your tomfoolery. But don’t be ridiculous. This is partially my fault, after all—I insulted your arse and that needs to be acknowledged.”

“Well, I was gonna _say…_”

Lily laughs. “How about I go get the rest of those census papers and we finish them up while we’re waiting?” she suggests.

James groans. “Do we have to?”

“Yes,” she says firmly. “I may be willing to overlook your idiocy on account of my slandering your arse, but paperwork takes precedence even over that.”

“You and bloody paperwork,” James grumbles. “You’re such an Amy.”

“And you’re a Charles,” Lily returns.

James’s head shoots up. “Oy!”

Lily grins quickly and turns around. “Be right back,” she promises.”

“But wait, Lily—do you really think I’m a Charles? Lily? _Lil.”_

* * *

**Monday, 10th November**

Hoping—begging, imploring, _praying—_that she would not be late for the board meeting seems to be Lily’s downfall.

She sets her alarm extra early, because she knows she has a habit of sleeping through it when she’s really tired, then checks it seven times and on the seventh and a half time apparently manages to switch the A.M. and P.M. settings so her alarm rings at 6 _P.M._ not 6 A.M.

Lily barrels through the hallways at the office, not caring who she bowls over in her haste, skids to a stop outside the double doors, pauses for a split second to catch her breath then shoves her way into the boardroom with all the panache of an invading armada.

The room, filled with journalists and executives from high up in the company—including Dorcas, James and McGonagall—stares at her.

It’s that last person who narrows her eyes at her, mouth pulling just sharply to the side, and McGonagall’s voice is crisp as she says, “So glad you could finally join us, Ms. Evans.”

Lily’s face has caught on fire and she opens her mouth, not sure what she’s going to say, but before she can say a word James speaks up.

“It’s my fault she’s late,” he says. “We’re…writing a story.” His eyes dart to her and back to McGonagall, whose brow has rose. “An expose,” he clarifies. “On…catnapping. In South London.”

“Catnapping,” McGonagall repeats slowly.

“In South London,” James says, nodding. “Its happening in other areas, of course, but we see it most prevalently in…that…area.” He gestures vaguely.

McGonaggal’s brow pinches. “Mr. Potter…”

“Lily was interviewing someone,” James says. He glances at her. “Weren’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” Lily says, giving them all her best smile. “Alice Van…Smith. Renowned cat-lady in London. Has hundreds of them. Reports lots of catnapping scenarios, but of course the police don’t do anything.”

“Because what is the life of a cat worth to the police?” James demands, leaning forward and actually looking pained. He slams his hand down on the table. Someone jumps. _“Nothing,_ that’s what.”

“Mr. Potter—”

“No, this is an actual problem,” James says. “We must do something!”

Lily can see he’s trying not to smile from the way his mouth is pulling down at the corner and that makes her want to laugh, but she forces her face into serious, pained lines.

“We’re trying,” she says. “And isn’t that the best anyone can do? _Try? _Our exposé _must_ go public.”

“For the sake of _all,” _James adds. “Let the public read this shocking, horrifying, moving scandal and see how deep the corruption in our world runs. To cats, for God’s sake!”

McGonagall’s lips have gone thin with annoyance, but Lily thinks she spots a flash of humor behind her eyes. “Sit down, both of you,” she snaps eventually.

Lily sags in relief and goes to sit down across from James. She makes eye contact with him and smiles.

_Thank you,_ she mouths.

James just winks.

“Oh, and Evans, Potter,” McGonagall says and they look up at her. “I want copy of that catnapping story on my desk by lunch. Including your interview with Miss…Van Smith.”

“No problem,” James says easily.

He smiles at her as McGonagall starts the meeting and she thinks she’s never loved him more, forcing her to write a catnapping story with a witness who didn’t even exist.

The worst thing she could do in journalism, but with James Potter in front of her, smiling at her like she was the best thing in the world and her heart pounding, it's hard to care.

* * *

**iMessage**

**Friday, 28th November 10:59 P.M.**

**Mary MacDonald**

_Lil _10:59 P.M.

_lily where are you _10:59 P.M.

_I know you’re upset just come over to mine _10:59 P.M.

_Lily _11:00 P.M.

**Dorcas Meadowes**

_I wouldn’t have taken you out to that bar if I’d known they’d be there lily _11:02 P.M.

**iMessage**

**Friday, 28th November 11:23 P.M.**

**Sirius Black**

_u wanna hang at the shop and mock customers _11:23 P.M.

**Lily Evans**

_what just so u can all feel sorry for me bc I had to see ur stupid mate stick his tongue down _ 11:29 P.M.

_ someone’s throat _

**Sirius Black**

_fuck no _11:29 P.M.

_i just want someone to throw whipped cream cans at the walls w _11:29 P.M.

**Lily Evans**

_I’ll be there in 5 _11:36 P.M.

* * *

**iMessage**

**Tuesday, 2nd December 10:09 P.M.**

**Mary MacDonald**

_babe, you have to tell him _10:09 P.M.

* * *

**iMessage**

**Thursday, 4th December 4:46 P.M.**

**James Potter**

_are we okay, Lily? _4:46 P.M.

**Lily Evans**

_why wouldn’t we be? _4:47 P.M.

**James Potter**

_Idk. _4:47 P.M.

_its okay tho _4:47 P.M.

_if ur mad at me _4:47 P.M.

_about stuff _4:47 P.M.

_if u are _4:48 P.M.

**iMessage**

**5:43 P.M.**

**Lily Evans**

_I’m not mad at you _5:43 P.M.

**James Potter**

_okay _5:43 P.M.

_good _5:44 P.M.

**Lily Evans **

_yeah _5:45 P.M.

**James Potter**

_Lil _5:46 P.M.

**Lily Evans**

_Yeah? _5:46 P.M.

**James Potter**

_are you sure there’s nothing you want to say? _5:47 P.M.

**Lily Evans**

_Yeah, I’m sure _5:46 P.M.

* * *

_To: Mary MacDonald (_ [ _mmacdonald@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:mmacdonald@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _), Lily Evans (_ [ _levans@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:levans@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _), James Potter (_ [ _jpotter@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:jpotter@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _), Remus Lupin (_ [ _rlupin@itdailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:rlupin@itdailyprophet.ac.uk) _), Peter Pettigrew (_ [ _ppettigrew@hrdailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:ppettigrew@hrdailyprophet.ac.uk) _) Benjy Fenwick (_ [ _bfenwick@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:bfenwick@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _) (…)_

_From: Dorcas Meadowes (_ [ _dmeadowes@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:dmeadowes@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _)_

_Cc: Minerva McGonagall (_ [ _mmcgonagall@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:mmcgonagall@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _) _

_Date: 16 December 2019 10:38 A.M._

_Subject: Office Christmas Party_

_Dear all,_

_This year’s office Christmas party will take place on Monday, 22nd December on the third floor. Please dress appropriately and no,_ _I repeat NO shenanigans will be allowed with this year’s Secret Santa. _

_The paper will not be closing entirely for the holidays, but we will be trying to get by with a smaller than normal staff. Before you all jet off for your holidays though, Minerva and I ask that everyone files their stories on time_ _and in the proper department. Any recurring technical difficulties should be forwarded to IT—you all know Remus Lupin, he’s a very friendly fellow, and a broken server is not a good excuse for the collapse of journalistic integrity._

_Happy Holidays!_

_Dorcas Meadowes_

_Senior Editor_

_The Daily Prophet_

_To: Mary MacDonald (_ [ _mmacdonald@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:mmacdonald@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _), Lily Evans (_ [ _levans@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:levans@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _), Remus Lupin (_ [ _rlupin@itdailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:rlupin@itdailyprophet.ac.uk) _), Peter Pettigrew (_ [ _ppettigrew@hrdailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:ppettigrew@hrdailyprophet.ac.uk) _) Dorcas Meadowes (_ [ _dmeadowes@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:dmeadowes@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _) (…)_

_From: James Potter (_ [ _jpotter@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:jpotter@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _)_

_Date: 16 December 2019 10:59 A.M._

_Subject: re: Office Christmas Party_

_Oh, come on that was one time, Dorcas. And I personally think Dumbledore enjoyed those socks._

_Office pool on craziest thing to happen at this year’s party? Last year is going to be hard to beat, Gideon Prewitt really threw in the towel with that one._

_J_

_To: Lily Evans (_ [ _levans@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:levans@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _), James Potter (_ [ _jpotter@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:jpotter@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _), Remus Lupin (_ [ _rlupin@itdailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:rlupin@itdailyprophet.ac.uk) _), Peter Pettigrew (_ [ _ppettigrew@hrdailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:ppettigrew@hrdailyprophet.ac.uk) _) Dorcas Meadowes (_ [ _dmeadowes@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:dmeadowes@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _) (…)_

_From: Mary MacDonald (_ [ _mmcdonald@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:mmcdonald@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _)_

_Date: 16 December 2019 11:17 A.M._

_Subject: re: Office Christmas Party_

_Something’s in the cards this year, bitches._

_James we’ll talk about the pornographic socks you gave the founder of this newspaper another time. _

_Mary_

_To: Mary MacDonald (_ [ _mmacdonald@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:mmacdonald@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _), Lily Evans (_ [ _levans@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:levans@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _), James Potter (_ [ _jpotter@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:jpotter@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _), Remus Lupin (_ [ _rlupin@itdailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:rlupin@itdailyprophet.ac.uk) _), Dorcas Meadowes (_ [ _dmeadowes@dailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:dmeadowes@dailyprophet.ac.uk) _) (…)_

_From: Peter Pettigrew (_ [ _ppettigrew@hrdailyprophet.ac.uk_ ](mailto:ppettigrew@hrdailyprophet.ac.uk) _) _

_Date: 16 December 2019 11:35 A.M._

_Subject: Proper Employee Conduct_

_All Daily Prophet employees—kindly do not use the word “bitches” in a work email._

_Sincerely,_

_Peter from HR_

* * *

**iMessage**

**Sunday, 21st December 1:39 P.M.**

**James Potter**

_haha, very funny Evans. _ 1:39 P.M.

_Watch me file my story faster than u _1:39 P.M.

**Lily Evans**

_You can try ;) _1:40 P.M.

* * *

**Monday, 22nd December**

Lily despises people who use the winky emoji.

Why does it even exist? She can think of several suitable words that could be used instead, but people chose to communicate through a series of lines and dashes that make no logical sense but still manage to convey far too much.

Fuck, she needs a drink.

Happy, light Christmas music fills the office and Lily wriggles her toes in her shoes, cursing female footwear to high heavens. Her feet are going to be positively wrecked by the end of this evening.

She spots Dorcas, whose face lights up and makes a beeline for her.

“Oh, thank god, finally someone sane,” she says. “I just had to talk to that creepy bloke from IT—Snapes or whatever—for like twenty minutes and I’m about to die. That bloke gives me the creeps.” She shudders, then grins at Lily.

“To no creepy blokes,” Lily says firmly, raising her glass of eggnog.

Dorcas laughs. “Happy Christmas, Lily.” She raises her glass. “To five days of freedom.”

“Heading home?” Lily asks.

“South Shields, baby,” Dorcas says with false cheer. She grins at Lily. “I’ve got to go deal with my mum’s latest divorce and subsequent string of step-children who all want a piece of the will. Weapons and a shield would be much appreciated.”

“Sadly, I already got your Christmas present,” Lily says with a laugh. “But I’ve still got the receipt and a few days to return it. I’ll see if M&S has any maces or battle axes to ward off screeching step-siblings.”

“Lily Evans, you angel,” Dorcas says with a grin. She jerks her chin. “What about you?”

“I’m going to visit my mum day after tomorrow,” Lily says, leaning against the wall. “Then I’m back to cover that parliament debate story on the 30th.”

“Look at that,” a voice says, appearing by her shoulder. James grins down at her. “Even during the hols, she’s still outdoing the rest of us.”

Lily scowls at him, even as her heart thumps a thousand beats per minute. “Fuck you,” she says amiably.

Dorcas laughs.

“Oy, if you talk to me like that I’ll rescind my invitation,” James warns, but his eyes are twinkling.

“What invitation is this?” Lily inquires, tilting her head back.

“Well, since we’re both in town for the holidays, how would you feel about a little Christmas Eve dinner?” James asks. “That way at least we don’t have to get drunk alone.”

“Aw, but that’s my favorite part about being single at Christmas,” Lily objects, but she’s smiling. And his offer… “Maybe,” she says. Her face flushes. “I might be busy, but…maybe.”

_What the fuck is she saying?_

James doesn’t look outwardly thrown, but she doesn’t think she’s imagining the disappointment in his eyes as he nods. “Well, you have my number…” he says. “Let me know.”

“I will,” Lily says.

It’s awkward suddenly and she doesn’t know why, why she even opened her mouth, what she’s even _doing._

“I’m gonna go say hi to Gideon,” James says. “I’ll tell him you said hello, Dorcas.”

“Prick,” Dorcas says mildly, then downs her eggnog. “I’ll come with you—maybe you can learn a thing or two about _flirting._ Bye, Lil.”

Lily waves them away and watches James walk away with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

Until Christmas, she’d promised herself. Lily keeps her promises.

_So why the bloody hell can’t she keep this one?_

Lily spots another tray of eggnog circling the room and quickly grabs as many cups as she can hold. “Thanks,” she mutters, ignoring the server’s vaguely judgmental eyes.

Quickly, she downs two and feels the burn hit her a moment later. Someone had made the mistake of asking Sirius’s coffee shop to supply drinks for the evening and he had _definitely_ spiked the eggnog.

“Sirius is doing his best to kill all of us,” Remus says, coming to a stop next to her. At his side is Peter, who’s eying the glasses in her hand.

“Is he here?” Lily asks, trying not to look at the other side of the room where James is standing with Gideon Prewitt. Fuck, she needs to get drunk and quickly, or she’ll do something she’s going to regret. Like run.

Remus shrugs. “Somewhere.” He looks at her. “Hard day?”

Lily actually laughs at that one and lifts another cup. “You have no idea,” she says and downs it. Her head is starting to spin.

“Excessive drinking isn’t—” Peter begins but Lily gives him a look that shuts him up immediately. “Er, carry on,” he says.

“Men are stupid,” she says, blinking furiously. “Idiots, idiots, _idiots.”_

“Well, not all of us, I’d like to think,” Remus says fairly. “But you have to allow for some idiocy—” he side-eyes her. “I mean, you haven’t exactly been overt in your feelings.”

It’s a mark of how quickly she’s gotten drunk that Lily doesn’t deny it or get cross at being confronted so thoroughly. “Overtness just opens for disappointment,” she says.

Peter shifts. “I don’t think it would in this case,” he says, the first non-HR thing he’s said to her in months.

Neither of them offer anymore commentary, but continue standing next to her and Peter even hands her her next round of eggnog.

Lily finds herself thinking on his words as she steadily gets drunker, watching James across the room. He’s laughing at something someone said, and the light is catching on his glasses.

He’s a really good-looking bloke, she thinks. A decent, good-looking bloke. And decent, good-looking blokes deserve non-cowardly girlfriends who can declare their feelings.

_Man up, Evans._

“Am I drunk?” she asks Remus and Peter.

“I would say so,” Remus says, steadying her as she tries to take a step to the side and stumbles. “Woah, careful.”

Lily tilts her head, squinting at them. “I’m in love with James,” she informs them matter-of-factly. It’s all she knows how to say when she’s drunk.

Remus looks very slightly amused. “I’m aware,” he says. “Do you maybe think you should make him aware of it too?”

Lily considers that. “I should, shouldn’t I?” she realizes. “Because—like—” she pushes her hair out of her face. “He’s _right _there. And when else is he going to be right there, you know? No, he’s not. So…” she’s not making sense, even to herself, but all she knows is it’s been _three years_ of this madness.

Three years, and he’s standing right over there, so close and so bloody wonderful and funny and fit and she’s a bloody idiot but she’s _going to do this._

“I am going to tell James Potter than I love him,” she declares.

Remus and Peter stare at her.

“That’s technically against HR rules,” Peter says and Remus elbows him. “But go for it,” he amends.

Lily nods, taking an unsteady step forward—_she can do this—_and spots the karaoke machine that Peter had dragged in earlier, touting the need for a classic Christmas carol moment.

She’d laughed at the time, but right about now she was ready to snog the life out of Peter Pettigrew from HR out of thanks.

Lily grabs the mic and without so much as preamble, clambers unsteadily atop someone (Marlene’s?) desk and says into the mic, “Merry Christmas, ladies and—” she hiccups, “—gents.”

It’s much too loud and she winces as the sound assaults her ears. She holds it further from her mouth.

There’s a wave of laughter as everyone turns to look at her and she sees Mary drop her croissant, then dive for her phone camera. Lily blows her a kiss, then tries to focus again.

“It’s Christmas,” she says. Another set of laughs. “We all know it’s Christmas, and that makes you crazy—you know, all the ho-ho-hos and the commercial bullshit. But it’s crazy, also, cause it’s _in your head._ And it makes you do things you wouldn’t normally do.”

She pauses, spots James standing in the crowd, a disbelieving grin on his face like he can’t quite believe she’s doing this, but also who else was going to do something this mental at the office party.

“James,” his name is an exhale and there’s a few catcalls in the crowd and her face is red, but the alcohol in veins is making her bold and she looks for his face in the crowd. Lily props her hand on her hip and declares, “This isn’t quite getting a boombox a la John Cusack, because one, where the bloody hell do you even find a boombox these days, lets be real? Who needs one since the iPhone. And also, they’re fucking heavy. I know because my mentally retarded mate, Sirius—”

Sirius salutes and she waves.

“--made me carry one for him once.” She shakes her head to clear it, trying to focus her mind and not slur her words. “But anyway. No boombox. But I think I’ll declare my love for you anyway, because maybe Mary is right and romantic movies are crap—” she lets out a sharp burst of laughter, aware that whispers are swarming through the room and she can’t find James in the crowd anymore “—but if they’re crap then why am I even saying this, there’s no way this’ll work without the Hallmark channel cookie cutter love interest—and if they’re crap then songs on boomboxes don’t mean shit, but drunkenly clambering on a table at the office party to use your—my—intelligent, persuasive words to convince you to love me is—”

That’s when James Potter crosses the last bit of distance he’d been pushing through the crowd, not-so-drunkenly clambers onto the table at the office party with her, ignores the idiotic nonsense still spewing from her mouth and Peter from HR’s frantic gestures to stop, and then he kisses her for all she’s worth.

There’s a loud cheer that bursts through the entire office, but Lily doesn’t even hear it as she stumbles back, catches herself, his mouth on hers and she can’t breathe and _fuck._

Her hands are around his neck, gripping his collar and dragging him closer, closer, closer.

His neck, because his lips are on hers and she just said all that and he’s _kissing _her—

Lily closes her eyes and kisses James back. Once, twice, three times, their lips never parting, his hands gripping the back of her dress like she’s going to disappear. Her toes curl and her head is swimming but his arms are around her and he’s holding her up and fucking hell she’s so drunk on something right now but it doesn’t feel like alcohol.

A decade, a minute, a year, a second later, he draws away, his face flushed and out of breath. His thumb brushes over her cheek and her eyes slowly open, their lips still bare centimeters away.

“Hey, Evans,” he murmurs. “Go out with me?”

“Only if you bring a boombox,” she says, head spinning too much to say anything else.

He laughs and his grin is wicked and she’s ten kinds of a fool for this man, this bloody brilliant man. “Only if you sing,” he counters.

Lily presses her forehead to his and her smile is uncontrolled. “Not a chance.”

The room around them is in an uproar, their coworkers taking pictures or laughing or just staring. Mary looks like she’s about to pass out from excitement.

“Off the table, off,” McGonagall snaps, standing by the cubicles, but she’s hiding a smile.

“Gladly, Minerva,” James says easily, grabbing Lily’s hand and continuing to hold it as he jumps off the table, then helps her off.

“The HR violations—” Peter objects weakly and there’s a loud, “Piss off, mate!” from Sirius.

McGonagall looks between Lily and James and Peter and the rest of the room, clearly unsure how to proceed, then she shakes her head. “Mr. Pettigrew—have HR write up a report.”

“But there’s no procedure for—”

“Just write it and file it with all those other nonsense reports you shove on me each month and be done with it,” she snaps.

“How do you think they’d feel if I kissed you again?” James mutters, his breath touching her ear. He’s holding her hand and she feels like she could sprout wings and fly, like she’s so drunk that she’s just imagining all of this.

“I dunno,” Lily says contemplatively. She looks up at James, smiling. “We should try. For science. You have to file and record everything, like a good journali—”

Really, there are so many better uses for mouths than talking, she realizes.

* * *

**Unread Messages: 43**

**iMessage**

**Tuesday, 23rd December, 12:01 A.M.**

**Mary MacDonald**

_I SO TOLD YOU SO _12:01 A.M.

_BITCH _12:01 A.M.

_IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU _12:01 A.M.

_<3 <3 <3_12:02 A.M.

**lily and james are dating**

**iMessage**

**Tuesday, 23rd December, 12:04 A.M.**

**Mary MacDonald changed the chat name to ‘lily and james are dating’ ** **12:04 A.M.**

**Mary MacDonald**

_*office-party-2019-l-j-kiss.vid* _ 12:04 A.M.

**Dorcas Meadowes**

_HOLY FUCKING SHIT. _12:05 A.M_._

_I CAN’T BELIEVE I MISSED THAT _12:05 A.M.

_CALL ME LILY _12:05 A.M.

_OR MARY _12:05 A.M.

_OR EVEN BLOODY PETER _ 12:05 A.M.

_SOMEONE CALL ME _12:05 A.M.

**Sirius Black**

_interesting evening that was _ 12:07 A.M.

_don’t forget to be safe kids _ 12:07 A.M.

**Peter Pettigrew**

_The HR violations… _12:08 A.M.

**Remus Lupin**

_Shut up peter _12:08 A.M.

**Dorcas Meadowes **

_shove it Pettigrew _12:08 A.M.

**Mary MacDonald**

_Y’all owe me 50 quid _12:10 A.M.

**iMessage**

**Tuesday, 23rd December, 12:14 A.M.**

**Minerva McGonagall **

_Miss Evans, Mr. Potter, your report has been officially filed with HR. I've been informed _

_ by a quite…persistent source _ _that normally this would require a formal _ _hearing, but the_

_ courts are backlogged __with the immigration crisis. Your hearing __ is 6th of January. __P__lease _12:15 A.M.

_bring all relevant _ _identification and feel free to takes notes _ _on the UK immigration _

_crisis between _ _the required paperwork. I expect a rough _ _copy on my desk by 8th _

_January. Tardiness _ _will not be accepted. Enjoy your holidays._

**Read Messages: 6**

**iMessage**

**Tuesday, 23rd December, 3:04 A.M.**

**James Potter **

_Goodnight, Lily _3:04 A.M_._

**Lily Evans**

_I’m right next to you, you dolt. _3:04 A.M_._

**James Potter **

_We always text goodnight _3:05 A.M_._

**Lily Evans**

_Turn over and say it to my face. _3:05 A.M_._

**James Potter **

_But then you’ll see my skivvies and what a deal breaker that’ll be. _3:05 A.M_._

**Lily Evans**

_I’ve already seen them, James Fleamont Potter, and if you don’t turn around and kiss me this _3:06 A.M_._

_instant I’ll tell Peter you tried to sexually _ _proposition McGonagall_

**James Potter **

_*i-cannot-even-captain-holt.gif* _3:06 A.M_._

**Lily Evans**

_okay the B99 gifs have got to stop james _3:06 A.M_._

**James Potter**

_yes ma’am _3:07 A.M_._

**iMessage**

**Tuesday, 23rd December, 3:58 A.M.**

**James Potter **

_G’night, Lily _3:58 A.M_._

**Lily Evans**

_Night, James _3:58 A.M_._


End file.
